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yodaface · 27 days ago

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Eight-letter words

weird Rowena Friday drabble

Featuring a very bored Rowena, a Sam who is bad at games, an overly curious Jack, and an annoyed Dean. (And Cas, who doesn’t get words wrong.)

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"You said you were working on a crossword puzzle, but that's not a crossword puzzle," Jack murmurs, peering over Rowena's shoulder.

Rowena stops scribbling and blinks tiredly up at Jack's innocent, bright eyes, wishing for all the world she felt even half as spry.

To tell the truth, she'd put the crossword puzzle away ages ago.

Rowena adores even the crustiest of old books, and the intricacies of magic still capture her attention as much they did on her very first glimpse of the town whore sprinkling an old drunkard's cloak with a glittering, untraceable poison.

But this "research day at the bunker" lulls her into a sleepy haze of nothingness. She becomes a mind-melting puddle of sloth. Bless him, but Sam Winchester's way of doing things tries even her inexhaustible academic appetite.

Speaking of, Sam Winchester is now gazing across from her with his large, sad hazel eyes and a juvenile pout that's rather out-of-place on his aging face.

"I thought you were making good headway with the Reginald Scot papers," he says. His usual clinical timbre borders on a whine.

She drives her pen harder into her pink notepad. "Oh, Samuel. Even an intellectual scholar-witch such as myself needs a moment to unwind."

Jack wrinkles up his nose, and he must be bored too, to be standing to close and taking such an interest in her things. "And you're unwinding by making a...list now? It says: F, M, K? Is that a Magical Grid?"

Rowena snatches her notepad away from the sneaky Naphil, but he paws at her other papers next.

"And you didn't even finish the crossword puzzle. Can I have it?"

She sighs. Crossword puzzles are more demonic that Ouija boards, really. "Have it it, fledgling."

She boops his nose for good measure, and before long, the lull sinks into the room again.

Sam settles into his chair with a squeak, Jack scrawls mindlessly on the crossword puzzle, and Rowena dutifully returns to the rambling literature of one Reginald Scot and his 1584 idiocy concerning The Discoverie of Witchcraft.

Before long, she cautiously slides to her notepad again, and Sam Winchester actually has the nerve to shoot her a dirty look for it. As if she's not doing him a favor by being here for "bunker research day" in the first place.

"Hey, hey Sam," Jack pipes up, so suddenly that it even makes Rowena's muscles jump, "what's a seven-letter word for green?"

Sam's eyes dart up. "Uh, how about, uh...verdant?"

"Oh. That fits! Thanks, Sam."

Sam, funny boy that he is, looks proud for all of three seconds. Then, he's diving back into his dusty old tome. Unseen, Rowena scribbles a heart on her notepad; then, a glittering princess crown.

"Sam."

It's Jack again.

"Yes?"

Sam's patient tone wavers just the tiniest bit.

"What's a seven-letter word for old?"

"Withered."

"That's eight letters."

"How about ancient."

"Oh. Yeah, that's totally it. Thanks, Sam.

"Sam."

Silence.

"Sam. Sam?"

Sam licks his lips, and Rowena imagines an hourglass running rapidly out of its sand. "Yes?"

"What's a fifteen-letter word for prediction?"

That brings Sam up short. His forehead wrinkles. "Uh, Jack, I'm a little busy with this right now."

Rowena leaps at the opportunity for a good needling, "Oh, he's just saying that because he doesn't know, Jack."

Ah.

There go his shoulders, creeping up towards his ears.

Delicious reaction, really. If Sam were a cat, he'd be all bushy by now.

"That's not why."

"Oh, ok," she singsongs, "Then answer the wee bird. What's a fifteen-letter word for prediction?"

Sam glares at the table, not willing to admit to anything. So cute. "Uh, Jack? Why don't you go ask Dean. Or Cas? They might like to play with you."

Jack looks nonplussed for some reason. "They went to the kitchen ages ago."

"Well. You could go to the kitchen and ask them?"

"I don't want to."

"Because?"

Jack huffs. "Because they always solve it too fast. You're much funner to play with because you don't get them right away."

Sam looks offended, and Rowena has to stuff her fist into her mouth to keep from laughing.

Oh, but Sam likes being the big-brained boy of the bunch, doesn't he?

Sam says his next bit too casually: "Dean's not that good at that kinda stuff."

Jack gives him a dubious look, like Sam's either stupid or lying.

"But anyway," Sam rushes out, perhaps dismaying at the obvious tenor of jealousy threading itself through his tone. "Just tell them to let you guess for a bit. Only ask them when you get stuck."

"They won't."

"They will if you tell them. Come on, they let you win all the time at tic-tac-toe."

Jack purses his lips, and it's so adorable how he draws himself up taller. "Actually, I'm good at tic-tac-toe, Sam," he explains, obviously none-the-wiser to reality. "But they're weird about word games. Haven't you played online Scrabble with them?"

Sam doesn't really like the phone games. Even Rowena knows that. She's played online Scrabble, Words, and Jeopardy with Dean, Mary, Cas, and Jack, but never with Sam. It occurs to her for the first time that maybe he doesn't like the games because he can't worm his way into insta-victory, like he can with supernatural and legal topics.

"Well, go get them anyway. Okay?" he says, sounding exhausted in a way that deflates Jack on the spot.

"Okay."

Mercifully, Jack leaves. Even for Rowena, the silence is welcome. Jack is adorable, sure, but his crossword pestering was getting to her, too. Just a bit.

She goes back to her Magical Grid, as Jack had called it.

She starts doodling genitals next.

Just because.

Eventually, Jack trudges in looking dejected. And lo and behold, the crossword puzzle is complete. He lays it on the table and solemnly pushes it towards Rowena. It's all filled out in Dean's handwriting, and Rowena snorts.

"Too fast?" she chirps.

"They get...excited." Jack sighs.

Poor dear.

"Anyway, what about your Magical Grid?"

Oh, no. Jack's already leaning over by the time Rowena realizes her doodles may be a wee inappropriate for his eyes.

Oh, well.

He hyper-focuses on the doodles this time. "Are those...hearts, jewels, and...penises?"

Dean overhears only the last word as he marches in wearing his little waist apron, and the withering stare he shoots Rowena is the exact one fashionable witches used to give her when she had wanted to join their much-more-popular covens.

Rowena matches it with a cheesy, over-the-top grin. "'Lo there, Dean."

Then, Jack tries to get her attention again. "I thought you were working on something important. I thought you were doing magic."

Rowena giggles, purposefully avoiding Sam's disappointed stare. "This is important. I'm making a special list."

"F, M, K? Is that the start of some kind of cipher? Are these hieroglyphs?"

Rowena just cackles and taps Jack's warm, little cheek. "No."

Sam's cottoned on: "Rowena." And he's massaging his temples like she's clonked him clean over the head with something heavy.

"I can't decide, Samuel. Who goes where on my list, between you, Dean, and Castiel. I change my mind every day, but today I'm finding the decision very difficult indeed."

"You're rating them?" Jack whispers, eyes roving over her strange doodles, and then to the names Sam, Dean, Cas up in the corner. "Am I on the list?"

Sam makes a grotesque, strangled noise.

"No, dear." Then, just to tease Sam, "but maybe when you're older and become a big, strong angel you can be on the list."

"Oh, gross," Sam mumbles, and that clues Dean into something.

"What do you mean by list?" he demands, twisting a fist in the pocket of his cooking apron. "Izzat a ranking grid? Like a kill-list? What?"

"Not a kill list. Well, one of you. Not all of you."

When Sam groans again, Rowena decides to just be out with it.

"This is my lit’l FMK list. Fuck, marry, kill. I'm trying to decide which of you I'd do what to on this particularly day, if pressed."

Jack's eyes go wide. "Oh."

Dean doesn't look much better, except that she can tell he wants to know, despite himself. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, and Dean is one curious cat. He covers his interest by scowling and crossing his arms, "Ha. We don't even care."

"Don't you?" she trills, and Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, too. Even he wants to know. Blasted, competitive Winchesters.

"Ideally," she whispers to Jack, like this is some great wisdom she's imparting, "you'll want to meet someone you've tried to kill and failed, and someone you want to fuck and marry. It's a holy trinity, see."

He nods, like he understands. (He doesn't.) "Uh, right."

"But it changes day to day, alas. For example, today I can't decide if I'd rather sleep with poor Samuel or marry him."

Jack nods. "Right. The waitress on our last case said, 'sometimes, you just have the sex.'"

"Smart boy."

Dean's face-palming back there. Pot-kettle. He spews more filth on a minute-by-minute basis than Rowena could ever dream of, then acts all shocked whenever she has something playfully naughty to say.

"Of course... Every day, without fail, I choose to kill Dean."

Castiel, of course, has chosen this moment to enter the room, and he looks appropriately alarmed at the mention of killing Dean.

Dean just looks offended.

It's glorious.

"Hey! I'm a great lay!" he shouts, turning the prettiest shade of pink.

This, if anything, makes Castiel look even more alarmed. "Is this for another crossword puzzle?" he ventures, tracking his eyes around the room, like he's deathly afraid of the answer.

Jack is chipper: "No, it's for Rowena's fuck, marry, kill list."

Cas raises an eyebrow. "Her what?"

Jack chatters on: "It's a list she makes every day. One of you she'd marry, one of you she'd have sex with, and one of you she'd kill. Though it looks like she'd kill Dean. Every day, she says."

Now, Castiel looks offended for Dean, and Rowena can't resist pushing the game a little further.

"Of the remaining two of you, Castiel, I'm not sure who is going to win. You or Sam?"

"What exactly entails 'winning' in this instance?" Cas grouses, and Rowena ignores him--starts talking over him to get to the good part. She just thought it up, after all.

“I’m so glad you both agreed to play!”

She rips off two clean sheets from the back of her notepad, and then she fumbles around the table for two number twelve pencils. With Jack as assistant, the paper and pencils get thrust towards Sam and Cas, respectively.

"Get ready!" Rowena shouts, trying to get them nervous for the build-up. "On your marks, get set--"

"Wait. What are we doing?" Sam gushes out, getting more nervous than Rowena could have ever hoped.

"Why, you're writing down the words that first come to mind, of course."

Cas's expression flattens. "We are?"

"That's the game, Castiel."

Rowena hears Dean say lowly, "Just play her stupid game, aight?"

"What's an eight-letter word for sexy? Go!"

Sam's so caught off-guard, he sputters.

"Come on, Sam. You can win!" Jack cheers, and Dean looks comically insulted.

"Hey, you're cheering against Cas? He just helped you solve your whole crossword puzzle back there."

"Cas is too good at crosswords," Jack quips back. "It's only fair."

And oh, Sam's still stuttering, how adorable! But Castiel is...scribbling. Hmm. Dean's velcro'ed to his side, but from what she can tell, they aren't cheating.

Sam stares in wide-eyed horror at his blank paper. Rowena surmises he was more of a "study guide guy" than a "scholars' bowl guy."

"Uhm, uh. Sexy, let's see. Sexy. Seductive?"

"Write it down, Samuel. It's not a verbal exam."

Dean snorts.

Sam growls, "Shut up, Dean."

Jack stage-whispers: "Sam. Seductive has nine letters, not eight."

Sam reddens and grits his teeth. "Thanks, Jack. Uh. How about? Uh," he counts out some letters on his fingers, whispering. "T-e-m-p-t-i-n-g. That's eight."

"Bzzt. Time's up. Pencils down, please. Did everyone get a word written down?"

"Rowena! That was, like, ten seconds."

Ah, that lovely whine again.

"That's the point, Samuel."

Cas, ever the literal one, just drops his pencil on the ground. Dean rolls his eyes, before trying to peer over his shoulder with what might be a little too much interest.

"Well, Samuel? Let's have your eight-letter word for sexy, mm?"

"Uh," Sam clears his throat. "Tempting. T-E-M-P-T-I-N-G."

Bless him, he sounds like he stepped out of the National Spelling Bee. She barely restrains from teasing him over it.

Jack claps, and even to Rowena it feels a wee bit sarcastic.

It's so fun.

“Very good, Samuel. Very good. Tempting. Noted. Fabulous choice."

She traces the outline of one of her doodled hearts. Hmmm. Her eyes snap to Cas, but he doesn't flinch. "And your word?"

Cas glances apologetically at Sam.

"Uh, alluring," he grumbles.

Rowena's eyebrows raise, and she chortles. That's a good choice, too. Rowena had honestly expected a bit of rude commentary or at least a few cheeky pop-culture references from The Dean Winchester. Disappointingly, he's as still as a statue, staring hard at the side of Castiel's face.

And then Castiel keeps going, voice entirely too dry for the kind of list he's calling out: "Sensual. Luscious. Arousing. Stunning. And lastly," he pauses. "Beddable."

Rowena traces the outline of the penis on her notepad. "Beddable," she repeats heartily, giggling.

Sam's just grimacing, "Beddable? Really?"

Honestly, she'd been expecting some encore laughter. Dean's definitely letting her down.

"Beddable!" She calls pointedly.

No luck.

"Is beddable the same as sexy?" Jack murmurs, too curious for his own good.

Cas tracks his eyes over to Dean, but for only a moment. "I have more words, but I assumed you wanted modern English vernacular."

"Wow," Sam coughs. "That's. Yuck. You've been hanging out with Dean too much."

Dean comes alive again, and his body convulses, like Sam's sent him into some kind of awkward seizure. "What? I--me? I'm not hanging. You're hanging."

Sam frowns. "What?"

Dean coughs. "What?"

Castiel valiantly swoops in for a save: "Dean's television and internet viewing habits have more bearing on my slang than my extensive vocabulary," he explains.

Bless him.

It doesn’t erase the awkwardness.

Jack leans forward. "So. Who won?"

Rowena doesn't miss a beat. "Samuel."

Sam looks arrogantly pleased, and for a moment, Rowena wants to announce that no, she's changed her mind. Today she's decided, for the very first time, to put Sam on her kill list.

Then he smiles a little.

Bullocks.

She can't do it.

"Yes," she announces. "Samuel, trusted friend and fellow academic, gets to marry me today. It's an astonishingly high honor if I do say so myself." She winks at Jack. "It's good to marry your friend, you see. It makes for many a wonderful late-night conversation."

Dean's ears go very red, and it distracts her for a moment.

Jack smiles. "I'm sure anyone would love to marry you."

Aw.

"Why, thank you, Jack. And dearest Castiel, you get to be my one-night stand tonight. Congratulations. Really, you're both winners when you think about it."

"He can’t tonight. Tonight's movie night," Jack supplies unhelpfully.

Rowena steamrolls past that.

"Your word list was incredibly..." Here, she rolls her words on her deepest, throatiest purr, "stirring, despite the dry delivery. Then again, that's the whole appeal of trying to...completely unhinge a stoic partner...isn't it?"

Rowena tries to snatch Castiel's gaze, but he looks quickly away, clearing his throat.

Ah, it's so delicious to embarrass Castiel. She throws her best bedroom eyes at him, just for good measure, and there. Ah. He's looking down and fiddling with his little blue tie.

So precious.

But Castiel jumps a bit when he gets a full blast of Dean's mean side-eye.

They look at each other for a bit, and Rowena doesn't know quite make to make of the myriad of tiny micro-expressions she finds there. Overall, Cas looks sheepish and Dean looks annoyed. Maybe. She makes a mental note to tease Castiel more often, just to pick and parse whatever thing Dean's got going on about it.

"Hey, stirring is also an eight-letter word."

Sam, still self-satisfied, returns to his book. "Yes, Jack. Yes, it is."

Rowena supposes Sam's ignoring everything outside of his own wordsmithing victory.

And that's probably for the best.

He didn't even really win, when it comes to the raw total of many words he'd come up with.

Rowena said he'd won, and he'd taken that completely at face-value.

Bless him.

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